Searching for the Words
by Brightly75
Summary: Alicia is searching for the right words.


Disclaimer: JKR and a host of corporate entities own them. I'm just making their lives difficult for a bit.

AN: This is a revised version of the story by the same name. I like it better this way. Hopefully you will too.

How do you tell someone that you are breaking up with them because you are in love with someone else without it being painful for you both?

Anything you try to say will sound contrived, like a rehearsed speech of meaningless platitudes as you futilely try to explain that it isn't him; it's you; and for once in the history of man that's not simply a bullshit excuse.

You really didn't mean to hurt him and if you'd had any control over it, you wouldn't have fallen for her.

Reasons abound as to why. The top few being that she has horrible taste in literature, and you have absolutely nothing in common except Quidditch. She talks in her sleep which drove you to distraction for seven years in the dorms and she leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor. Not to mention the fact that she's obviously straight, and even more obviously in love with a boy you _want_ to despise for no reason other than the fact that he has her, but whom you find yourself liking, because he's just that kind of guy.

And your boyfriend argues that if you can't have her then why won't the two of you work? So you try to explain that you're breaking his heart because it's not fair for him to get dragged into the maelstrom of despair that surrounds you, and because he deserves a girl that will love him with her whole being, not just the leftovers from someone who does nothing but cause pain even if inadvertently.

He finally nods, hints of tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, as he tells you that he should have known, because every time she walks into the room it's like your world surrounds her, exists only in her, and he knows that look.

It's the way he looks at you.

Then you hug him and you both cry as you grieve for something that might have been if love responded to reason. He promises not to tell his twin and whispers that he loves you as he leaves your room.

As some unlucky chance would have it, the girl in question is home as he leaves. She sticks her head inside your door in the wake of his obviously upset departure and sees your tears. Being the good friend that she is, she steps closer and all that you can think is that she is _so bloody goddamn beautiful_ and you half-smile bitterly as she asks, "What's wrong, Alicia?"

Then you tell her that you just broke up with George. And when she asks why, you tell her it's because you love someone else. Before she can ask who, as she inevitably will, catalyzing yet another argument about you not trusting her, which will indubitably end in confusion and frustration when you try to explain that it's yourself that you don't trust and she just doesn't _get_ it, you ask to be left alone and bury your face into your pillow.

You don't want to be comforted, since hurt and comfort are all the same where she is concerned and you really don't feel like any additional emotional masochism that evening, thank you very much. And you pray that she leaves before you blurt out that you broke the heart of a wonderful boy because you love her.

And it's killing you.

There's simply no good way to say any of these things. Even Hermione Granger, who never seems to lack words and is known for her skillful turn of phrase, would shirk at finding a way to verbalize these sentiments. Avoidance seems to be the best policy of defense. It's working fairly well until five nights later, when it's your turn to cook dinner for your flat mates and Katie flatly refuses to let you make the meal and then skive off the dinner conversation like you did three nights before. While you're arguing with Katie, Angelina walks in looking haggard yet somehow content, like a weight has been lifted. You concede the point to Katie and sit at the table, playing with your food rather than consuming any of it. Considering her recent victory over one recalcitrant child, Katie revels in the mothering role, asking you both what you did that day.

You mumble something incoherent about finishing a report advocating the standardization of quaffles for the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Angelina replies almost nonchalantly, "I broke up with Fred."

You look up from the mashed potatoes that you had been quite diligently sculpting into a model of Hogwarts, and she's staring at you beneath half-lowered lids, seemingly gauging your reaction. Your eyes drop back to your still full plate because you can't dare to hope anymore. It will be like it always is when she breaks up with Fred, a few weeks when the two of you are inseparable and there is an underlying current of _something_ inexplicable between you. Then he'll come up with some grand romantic gesture, which will fail miserably but she'll still think is cute and you'll be left feeling bereft while they pick up where they left off.

Then you'll cry on Katie's shoulder again and she'll tell you that everything will be all right. She'll ask why you don't just tell Angelina how you feel and you'll reply that she would hate you for it and that you'd rather have her as a friend than not at all, or some variation on that theme.

It's your usual way of disguising the fact that you're a chickenshit and not as brave as the Sorting Hat thought, at least not in matters of the heart.

You'll make Katie swear she won't say anything to Angelina and she'll do so grudgingly before bringing you ice cream and chocolate for a girly cry fest while Angie is out with Fred. And eventually, you'll get on with your life pretending you aren't in love with the girl who has been one of your best friends since you turned eleven.

At least that's the plan.

But later that evening, you hear a soft knock at your bedroom door and reluctantly open your door. She's waiting, and she pulls you to her and kisses you _hard_. There are tears running down both your faces and you suddenly understand the concept of happy tears. When you finally come up for air, you have time to see Katie at the end of the hall grinning because the two of you finally got it right. And, for one brief second before she kisses you again you think, 'Sometimes not having words isn't a bad thing.'


End file.
